Buried Passion Page 13

  “Rachel? Are you here?”

  She bit into her lip. Please, no.

  She had to stop him from coming closer. Ahead, lay the candles and diary, smoke still curled from the burnt-out wicks. If Jeff saw them, it would all be over. “Don’t come any closer,” she called out, sinking deeper into the tree. Too bad she couldn’t crawl and hide inside it.

  “I heard you scream. Are you all right?”

  She glanced at her foot, pink and already swelling. “I twisted my ankle.”

  Twigs snapped with quick speed, the sound grew closer. “Then let me help—”

  “No. Stop.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Not keen on confessing her current state, but if doing so made him leave, then so be it. “I’m…I’m naked.”

  “I still don’t see the problem.” Humor laced his tone.

  How was this funny?

  “Seriously, Rach. Let me help you. You’re hurt.”

  Either step out from behind the tree or he’d search for her and might stumble upon the little set-up. She cringed, lips pursed together. Palm against the bark, she hobbled into view. He spun in her direction, dark eyes wide in their sockets. Cheeks on fire, her arms tingled to cover her nakedness. The only consolation; her nude state distracted him. Jeff’s mouth parted as his gaze travelled her body, eyes possessive. Her heart skittered into overdrive. He wanted her.

  “Rachel,” his voice grew hoarse. From this distance, his chest rose and fell with swift exhales. “You’re mine.”

  She wanted to cry, scream, to shoot into the sky and fly amongst the clouds. The two words she’d give anything to hear left his mouth. Did one of the incantations made him believe they were destined mates? He lurched forward and took her into his arms. She gasped at the warmth of his embrace. Face nuzzled into his shoulder, she clutched his back, never wanting to let go.

  He eased out of the hug, stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his pants.

  She swallowed.

  The corner of his mouth quirked. When he clasped her hand, she flinched and almost lost balance. A secure hold of her hip helped steady her, but she winced when stabilising herself on the swollen foot.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, a crease appeared between his brows. “I forgot about your injury.”

  “Why are you undressing?”

  He guided her fingers over warm, smooth skin to settle on his hipbone. She could touch him forever.

  “I have so much to tell you about who and what I am, but first, look.”

  Dark boxers peeked out from the lowered pants, but on his hipbone lay a U-shaped birthmark. She glimpsed at her own hip, at the exact U on her skin. Every muscle in her body grew rigid. Incredible. With a gentle fingertip, she traced the swirl. Tears blurred her vision, and she bit back a smile. She had to pretend she had no idea what this meant.

  “My birthmark. We share the same birthmark,” she whispered, then leaned into his palms when he cupped her face.

  “It means we’re bonded. You’re my mate.”

  “Rachel. Rachel, snap out of it.”

  The distant voice grew closer. With a cry, she opened her eyes, her vision fuzzed as she sorted reality from flashback. Moonbeams washed over a half-naked Jeff. He stood in front of her, and she eased further into the tree, hair tangling with the bark. They were bonded. An explosion of something bright and tender overflowed in her chest when she’d seen the mark. Her birthmark. The man before her was hers. No, not Jeff, but a shirtless Ian…who might as well be Jeff’s long-lost twin. Maybe they were brothers.

  She blinked at the gray bundle under her nose. That explained his current lack of clothes. With the material held to her face, he helped with the nosebleed. Again, this considerate side was so foreign, yet so right. It gave her a sense of belonging, of feeling wanted, cherished.

  He eased the shirt away. “It stopped.”

  She couldn’t take this any more. Jeff, Ian. There had to be a reason they shared the same face. Did her past mess with the present and replace Jeff’s real features with Ian? “Do you have a brother?”

  His brow cocked at the random question.

  “No, just my sisters.”

  Okay, so no brothers. Only one other way to confirm his identity. She backed him against the tree and ignored his wide-eyed stare. Even now his blood still pounded in her system like a marching army, restoring her strength. How would she ever revert back to those plastic bags after tasting healthy werewolf blood? Leather belt in her grip, she unbuckled it and tugged down his jeans.

  “Rachel,” he uttered, but didn’t protest or try to stop her. Poor guy assumed she had other intentions. The dark u-shape stood out on his skin, as it had in the memory. She staggered back. It had to be true. He was Jeff…and they shared the same mark. They were bonded.

  Ian stood shirtless against the tree, pants below the hips. Desire stirred in dark, hungry, half-cast eyes. Even with a good space between them, it was as though his skin strained against hers. The heat, the sweat, the delicious closeness and firmness of strong muscles. Strange, how tuned in she was when they weren’t even touching. She had to have craved him so badly she imagined their bodies uniting.

  “You’re mine?” His question sounded more like a statement, better yet, a declaration.

  The familiar stir from earlier swarmed through her chest and stomach. As if years of buried emotions and passion busted free. She licked her lips and Ian groaned. Before she could blink, he closed the space between them, long fingers threaded through her hair. His kiss devoured, and she relished in the sensation, meeting every brush of lips and tongue with her own ardent response.

  “I want more of you, all of you,” he purred between kisses.

  She wanted to give him more.

  He spun her around, stomach flat against the tree. The delicious friction abraded her nipples.

  Two quick tugs forced the leather leggings to her knees. The icy air grazing her butt was soon forgotten when Ian caressed her behind. He nipped her ear, and her palms flattened over the rough bark for balance. As he sank behind her, his tongue followed suit in a trail along the line of her spine. He gripped her hips and tilted for a better view. She obeyed the silent command and flexed her back.

  Soft kisses teased the underside of her backside, and she jolted from a muscle spasm when his mouth glided along the back of her thigh. The unusual encounter escaped her mind when his tongue plunged beneath her folds and deep inside. She went up in flames as he sought her moist flesh. Fingernails dug into the fresh wood. A long cry trembled past her lips. Swept into a tide of sensation, she rocked on her toes. Not relenting, his tongue swirled and curled with skill. Her body was no longer her own. He controlled it, and right now sent her over the brink. “Ian.”

  As she came down from her high, he rose to his feet and pressed against her.

  “More?” he asked, somehow knowing what she craved.

  The coarse roughness of bark abraded her nipples, scratched her stomach. That, accompanied by the dominant heat and strength of this exquisite male at her back, pressing her into the hard tree, made her grow dizzy with pleasure.

  Ian gripped her hip with one hand, his fingernails bit into her flesh. The head of his rigid length slid over her entrance. A shiver of anticipation trickled down her spine. She gasped as he plummeted inside. So thick, so long. More so than what she first imagined. He clutched her to his sweaty chest. The heat against her skin, the thundering of his heart along her back, his crisp, lemony scent…she took it in. All of it. Something warm and wet splashed her shoulder. A tear?

  “I thought I’d lost you.” The whisper was a mix of heartbreak and relief.

  He nudged her chin to the right, leaned over, and sealed their lips in a heart-stopping kiss. Fingers entwined, he pinned her hands against the bark in front of her.

  Ian broke their kiss, his hot mouth covered her ear. The tingly sensation induced an eruption of goosebumps at the base of her neck and whipped down her spine.

  His finger
s tickled the back of her knee.

  “Bend a little.”

  She did, and he followed her movements from behind. She bit into her lip. So deep. So full. He rocked into her with slow, shallow thrusts.

  Unable to think, only scream in pure ecstasy, she shut her eyes and enjoyed the erotic ride. Ian was music to her body. She rocked her hips to the fast sound of his heartbeat. Inner muscles gripped him deep as she melted like molten lava, filled to the brink. The scent of their lovemaking coated the air; a mix of sweat, spice and sweetness. Low in her belly another orgasm ripened. Greedy fingers dug into her hips as he mercilessly pounded.

  Over and over, he continued until tears seeped past her lashes and she screamed. The burn in her lungs added to the pressure between her legs. A masculine grunt followed. With a hoarse cry, he spilled inside her. His half growl half sob reverberated over the back of her neck and down her spine. Dazed and limp, she clung to the tree. Behind her, Ian planted soft kisses along her naked shoulder and down her back. He took his time loving her tenderly before easing out of her.

  Strong hands snagged her waist and guided her around to face him. All the while his hot kisses ran along the dimples in her lower back, over the dips of curves and down the prominent slope of her hipbone. Everything in that moment was perfect. The way her body hummed from their lovemaking, the connection to the man on his knees in front of her, and the rush that left a smile on her face.

  The air grew cold, not due to the winter night, but from Ian’s sharp intake of breath. She frowned at him on his knees. What happened in the last few seconds that converted him from worshipping her body to staring at her with a slow shake of his head?

  “No. How could I have been wrong?” His voice sounded weak, defeated. “I thought for sure…”

  She followed his gaze and observed her naked hipbone. There had to be some mistake. No half U darkened her skin. In fact, there was no mark at all. Rachel swallowed. But the joy in the flashback? Had that not been genuine delight and relief? Oh no. She misread the memory. She hadn’t been excited about the mark they shared, she’d been thrilled that she managed to deceive him. Oh, my goodness. She pretended to be his mate. Bile rose. They were never bonded.

  Chapter 10

  The proof stared him in the face. Ian staggered backward, elbows pummelled the dirt on impact. Every fibre in his body had responded to Rachel, but she bore no mark. And yet his heart pumped fast and relentless for her, his cock hardened ready to sink inside her again. He rebuffed the idea this need she evoked could simply be sated by sexual fulfilment. Before they made love, his emotions had amplified. There was a connection between them. A strong one. It had to mean more than lust. At least, he believed it was their bond. With a shaky hand, he raked his short hair.

  “I assumed we shared the same mark.” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I believed you were my chosen mate.” On his feet, he buttoned up his jeans.

  Rachel’s gaze centred on the ground as though answers would spring up from the cold dirt. She seemed lost, in a daze, unconcerned with her nakedness or the winter chill. None of this made any sense.

  “Why did you check for my birthmark? How’d you know it’d be there?”

  Her head snapped up like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Rachel,” he insisted, stepping closer. “Why did you fall at my feet and check for my birthmark?”

  “I didn’t…” She cleared her throat. “I wanted you. Your blood was so titillating, and I needed to have you.”

  “But you backed away,” he drove his point home. “You seemed surprised.”

  “I know how you feel about vampires, and didn’t want to scare you off. Then you…”

  Even in the darkness he could make out the blush on her cheeks.

  “…you took me.”

  Ian wanted to believe something still didn’t add up. But there was no denying he misread the situation. Rachel didn’t know about his mark. And why would she? He never told her its location. Idiot. So caught up in his lust-craze, he never thought to check first for the mark. Now he’d gone and screwed up everything. Ian snatched his shirt and tossed it her way. “Here, there’s a blood stain, but it’s still wearable.”

  Face scrunched with confusion, she covered her naked breasts. She looked so beautiful, even with the little light from the moon through the cluster of bare trees. The tension between them grew thick and suffocating. Rachel avoided his gaze, donned the shirt, and tugged up her pants.

  Desire still stirred within. If he’d discovered the truth before they had sex, would he have stopped? No. He froze at the secret admission. Regardless of who and what she was, he wanted her.

  “You told me your mate died.”

  He sighed. Man, how confused she had to be. “Werewolves carry birthmarks and their mates share the same mark as them. A few months back, my birthmark formed into a scar. For my kind, that means a mate is dead.”

  “But the mark isn’t a scar.”

  Her grated words shot through him. Could he blame her? Despite what she might think, he didn’t use her. Passion had consumed him. He’d wanted nothing more than to drown in her scent, her heat, the taste of her skin…all of it. “It healed around the same time we met. Chayton put it in my head you were mine. I know, talk about jumping the gun,” he said when she gave him an odd look. “I questioned if your being alive related to my mark returning to normal. Then, the way you looked at me as if I belonged to you…I let my emotions rule me in the heat of the moment. I thought I followed natural instinct.”

  “Natural.” She scoffed with a mock laugh. “There’s nothing natural about vampires, werewolves, mates and bonds.”

  “It seems that way because you don’t remember, but you are more a part of my world than you realize.”

  Slim shoulders perked up as her eyes flashed. “What makes you say that?”

  “You were also a witch.”

  A gasp sputtered past her lips. “I knew it. You know who I am. And let me guess, you’re out to get me.”

  The familiar accusation triggered his concern. Hands held up in surrender, he shook his head. “I found out a few hours ago you were once a witch, and I’m not out to get you. If you remembered who you were, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’ve seen myself as a witch in my flashbacks.” Slender arms wrapped around her midriff. “How did you find out about my past?”

  “Your family told me. They’re worried and want to help, I want to help you—”

  Her luscious mouth dropped open and she staggered forward. “Family?”

  “The women in my house. One of them is your cousin; the reddish-blonde…Amber, she’s a witch and mated to my best friend, Chayton. And the other woman, Brianna, is your adopted sister and mated to the vampire you accused.”

  “My killer—”

  “No. His twin, Maurice, is the murderer. I heard how Amber lost a cousin, but I had no idea that was you until after you disappeared.”

  “He has a twin?”

  “Yes, who’s locked away and can never harm you again.” Images of hurting the vampire sprang inside his mind. If only he could payback the sick leech who did this to Rachel.

  “This is unbelievable.” A sob choked past her throat, and she glanced at the grass. “I remember those women from a vision, but I had no idea they were my family.” Her eyes closed, a smile stretched her lips. Her head snapped up. “I want to meet them.”

  “And you will as soon as we go to my place.”

  The smile withered. “Why did this Maurice kill me?” Thick, poisonous resentment consumed her tone.

  Maurice would haunt her for the rest of her days, just as his attackers did him. He prayed she didn’t let the hatred fester. Otherwise, she might grow bitter like he had.

  “Apparently he’s an addict who can’t control himself. I don’t have all the answers. Your family know a lot more. Will you let me take you to them?”

  Her nostrils flared. “How can I trust this isn’t a trick?”

  W
ith her current doubts, convincing her he wasn’t the bad guy wouldn’t be easy, but he’d be damned if he’d jeopardise Rachel and Amber’s reunion. Amber was part of the pack, she was family. As for Rachel, he was dead-set on protecting her.

  In his pocket, he withdrew his mobile and handed over the device. “Check the text messages from your cousin. She’s worried and wants you safe. The least you can do is come back, reassure them you’re all right, relieve the stress for Amber in her delicate condition.”

  Rachel glanced from the phone and blinked, recognition in her eyes.

  He cupped her face. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done so by now. I want to help you.”

  “Oh, right. Ian to the rescue.” Her face contorted into a sneer. “I bet Buffy’s at your place, waiting with a stake in hand.”

  “What?” Confusion blanked his mind for a second before her words became clear. “This isn’t a damn tv series. This is real life.”

  A stubborn chin jutted forward. “Fine, I’ll go with you. Besides, if you’re lying, I’ll flash right out of there again.”

  They headed through the dark forest. He stuck close in case she tripped, or an animal scared her. Or if he stopped kidding himself, he couldn’t help stay a step behind her. Everything about her lured him. And he wanted to be close. Rachel, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by his presence. He could have vanished, and she’d not even notice. Her stride was graceful, confident…even a little hasty as though desperate for a wide berth.

  Once inside his truck, he pumped the heater and offered his coat.

  “No, thanks.” She warmed her hands in front of the vent and sat in silence as they drove. His palms beaded with sweat, despite the winter chill outside. They had sex against a tree. Sex like he never imagined, and now he looked for ways to make conversation. When the gas symbol lit the dashboard, he pulled into the nearest station. He zipped the duffel coat to his neck. “I won’t be long.”

  Pump inserted in the tank, he drew out his phone and texted Amber. She would be overjoyed Rachel was safe and keen to meet her and Brianna. The passenger door opened as he hit send.